


They Gathered for Whiskey and Cigars Tonight. (Oh My God They Gathered for Whiskey and Cigars!)

by CertifiedPissWizard



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, that doesnt change the fact that my yearning really jumped out, well so did i but then it got tender, yes i did use some generic dialogue in this, you thought this was going to be a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CertifiedPissWizard/pseuds/CertifiedPissWizard
Summary: A quiet moment between two guards gathering for whiskey and cigars during the Rat Plague.
Relationships: OC/OC
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	They Gathered for Whiskey and Cigars Tonight. (Oh My God They Gathered for Whiskey and Cigars!)

"I'm glad we were able to do this." Alexander looked tired, but it was hard not to be with the rats and the Bottle Street gang and all the shit going down in this part of the city. Thomas tried to smile at him, smile at what he said, but it came across a little weak. "It's been too long since we've gotten together for whiskey and cigars."

"Indeed. I believe so." Thomas takes a sip, more to do something with his hands, have an excuse for extending the silence rather than anything else. By the Void does Alexander look beautiful, standing there on a shitty balcony over the murky waters. There's the smell of blood and bodies in the air- not even the cigars can drown that out. Still, though, Alexander manages to be more beautiful than perhaps any of Sokolov's portraits could ever hope to be, could ever hope to capture. "So. Do you think you'll get your own squad after what happened last night?" Alexander was a sight with a sword in his hand- he was always a sight, but still.

"Never doubt it." He turned, looked at Thomas, eyes looking darker than the darkest color imaginable. The Abbey preaches that someday the Void will devour all of the lights in the sky, and Thomas wonders, looking into those eyes, if maybe the infinite strangeness of the Void is to be found within those eyes, if the secrets that drive heretics to madness could be tasted from kissing those lips. If so, Thomas would gladly burn for heresies beyond account. Thomas hears a rat, looks down, stomps on it. "Stupid rats."

"Stupid plague."

"Stupid elixir." A familiar series of complaints to hear, and one that they tend to trade off on now. Thomas puts the whiskey down, not feeling bold because he's never been the sort for boldness. He feels tired, scared, tired of being scared, tired of just putting a hold on everything because of the plague and the gangs and the masked criminal. He places a hand on Alexander's. He says nothing, just watches those Void dark eyes. Alexander puts down his whiskey, sets the cigar down across the glass, careful to make sure the ashes won't fall in. In the background there's the sound of a watchtower blaring and firing. 

"Is this alright?" He pretends that his voice doesn't shake. It does. 

"Yes."

Thomas leans in. He shoves down every last bit of trepidation, every last bit of fear, and he leans in slowly. There is no special thing that happens when their lips meet, no sparks, no glorious sounds or music. The world feels quieted- chapped lips on chapped lips drowning out almost everything else. It's a short kiss, but when it stops Thomas still finds himself winded. He goes and takes another sip of his drink. 

Alexander moves closer, puts a hand on Thomas's back and keeps it there. Dawn is coming, and soon there will be another day. There'll be more plague rats, more gang attacks, more weepers. There'll be whale oil rationing, and canned jellied eels, and elixers, and who knows how many other things. Right now, though, there's this. There is body heat radiating out into the cold night, the sight of the dirtied green waters, the feeling of chapped lips on chapped lips, whiskey and cigars and Alexander. "I think," Thomas offers up quietly, reluctant to introduce anything new into the stillness of this moment, "that we should definitely do that again some time." 

Another moment passes, there are some shuffling sounds, and then they're kissing again. It's just as perfectly flawed as the first one, and perhaps this one leaves Thomas even more breathless. "Yes." Alexander is breathless too. "Of course."

Soon the dawn will come, and with it so will many other things. For now, though, there's this.


End file.
